


Flying Flock of Flamingos

by Crown_of_Winterthorne



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Could be read as UshiTen, Dysfunctional Family, Found Family, Friends as Family, Friendship, Gen, Hinted TenSemi, Kimono, M/M, Mild Language, Open to Interpretation, Post-Graduation, Racism, Team is family, Tendou's horrible fashion sense, narcissistic/controlling family members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crown_of_Winterthorne/pseuds/Crown_of_Winterthorne
Summary: Tendou visits Ushijima's family home after graduation and Grandmother Ushijima makes her displeasure known at her grandson's taste in friends. But Shiratorizawa flocks together, even if that flock includes a flamingo.
Relationships: Tendou Satori & Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 110





	Flying Flock of Flamingos

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Middle Blockers Zine, I'm finally posting this! I really just wanted an excuse to put Tendou into [this kimono](https://crown-of-winterthorne.tumblr.com/post/173549313788), but it turned into an exploration of friendship and family dynamics.
> 
> There's also an illustration by the amazing Kat! When she shares it, I'll post a link here, but in the meantime, please check out her [Tumblr](https://kat-doodles.tumblr.com) or [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/ushitentxt)

“I knew you were rich, Wakatoshi-kun,” Satori said, glancing over to the man at his side, “but you didn't tell me you were  _ this _ rich.”

“I'm not,” Wakatoshi replied. “My grandmother is.”

It was delivered in Wakatoshi’s typical matter-of-fact manner, but Satori had known him long enough to detect a slight bitterness there. Wakatoshi didn’t care about money, so Satori wondered what could bring out that tone.

Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, Satori looked again at the house on the hill where Wakatoshi had grown up. It was, for lack of a better word, grand. It was expensive in that tasteful, traditional way, with tile roofs, a wraparound veranda, and carefully cultivated gardens. 

Satori was no stranger to wealth. He’d gone to Shiratorizawa too—and not on a scholarship either. His father was a diplomat, his mother an architect. He had grown up in a very nice house in an area dominated by other very nice houses. Even so, this was not what he was used to.

He followed Wakatoshi into the house, where they left their shoes in the genkan. The interior was ultra-traditional and the Spartan furnishings looked like they belonged in a museum. Satori was afraid to touch anything. 

“This is where you grew up?” Satori asked, not daring to speak louder than a whisper. “Doesn't exactly seem kid-friendly.”

“I was not a rambunctious child, Tendou. And I was most often out playing volleyball or at school.” 

Again, that mild but bitter tone. Satori resolved not to ask any more questions.

That resolve tried to fly out of the window as soon as he met Wakatoshi’s grandmother and mother, but Satori grabbed it by the metaphorical tail feathers before he could blurt out anything rude. Not that he particularly cared about the scowling old biddy or the middle-aged woman wearing dyed-black hair and a string of Mikimoto pearls. He did care about Wakatoshi, however, so Satori forced himself to remember his manners, bowed, and said something polite about how kind it was of them to let him visit.

Wakatoshi’s mother, Mayumi, was gracious enough in her reply, though Satori suspected it was for her son’s sake and not his own. The grandmother was not so thoughtful. 

“You didn't tell us he was  _ Half, _ Wakacchi,” Ushijima-san said with a pointed glance at Satori’s red hair. Inwardly, Satori sighed. He felt like he was eight all over again.

“I didn't think it was important,” Wakatoshi said. His mother hurried to assure him that  _ of course _ it didn't matter and that perhaps he should show Satori to his room.

They made an awkward but hasty escape, with Satori tugging Wakatoshi by the elbow when it seemed like he might argue. As they left, Satori could hear the two women hissing angrily at each other over manners, Wakatoshi’s choice of friends, and questionable parenting skills. Beside him, Wakatoshi was a tower of barely concealed rage as they walked down the hallway.

“I’m used to it, you know,” Satori said quietly. “I probably should have been expecting it—”

“No, you should not have expected it,” Wakatoshi said. 

The fierceness in his tone made Satori jerk his head around to look at him. 

Wakatoshi had the same expression he’d worn on his face during the Karasuno match. “You are my friend and teammate. You deserve respect.”

Satori smiled. It was small but genuine. “Thanks, ‘Toshi.”

“I am sorry,” Wakatoshi added, opening the door to his bedroom and letting Satori inside first. “I had hoped Grandmother would—”

“It’s okay,” Satori cut him off. “I got the feeling that she would have found something to complain about.”

Wakatoshi exhaled a deep breath and nodded. He seemed relieved that Satori not only understood, but that he hadn’t simply decided to leave. Satori wondered just how many friends the old lady had managed to run off in the past. 

It wasn't the time to ask. Satori thought that SemiSemi would be proud of his restraint. Then again, he thought Eita might not have shown the same restraint. The thought made Satori smile—he really did have the best friends.

The matter settled for now, Satori put his bag down and they sat on the tatami-covered floor, Ushijima finally looking relaxed as he leaned back on his hands. Satori had his long legs stretched out comfortably in front of him as he looked around Wakatoshi’s bedroom. It didn’t hold any surprises: neat as a pin with volleyball posters on the walls and art supplies on the desk. Not much different from Wakatoshi’s dorm room at Shiratorizawa, except for the traditional-styled furnishings. At least Satori wasn't afraid of breaking anything if he breathed too loudly in here.

Come to think of it, this was probably Wakatoshi’s only sanctuary within the house. 

“Maybe over the summer you could come visit my family with Eita,” Satori said, looking up at the ceiling. “Before university starts and you get too famous for us.”

If Wakatoshi was the type of person to roll his eyes, he would have done it then. Satori could have sworn he saw his eyes twitch.

“I would not forget about my friends, Tendou. We discussed this.”

“So is that a yes?”

“Maybe for a few days,” he agreed, which was as good as a yes. Satori’s parents adored his teammates and it wouldn't be the first time Wakatoshi stayed at his home. 

After meeting Granny Dearest, Satori no longer wondered why Wakatoshi had always preferred to stay with friends or remain at school during holidays. Satori decided to make sure that Wakatoshi would always have somewhere else to visit if he needed to get away from family. 

“Netflix?” Satori asked. A distraction would be nice and really, all he wanted to do was hang out and maybe catch a nap before dinner.

“No horror movies,” Wakatoshi warned, getting his laptop out of his bag. 

“Spoilsport.”

“I’d rather not have you wake me up with nightmares tonight, Satori,” he said with a teasing look in his eye.

Satori clutched at his heart. “You wound me! I only did that once and it was to SemiSemi.”

“Who complained about it for two weeks, if I recall correctly,” Wakatoshi said, ignoring the dramatics. He logged into his laptop and pulled up his Netflix account. “Any suggestions besides horror or true crime?”

“The newest Marvel movie?” Satori asked. Wakatoshi was particular about superhero movies, but he was usually willing to watch them with Satori.

Wakatoshi nodded and started the movie. Neither of them had seen it in theaters—practice had been rougher than usual when it premiered—and it was a nice distraction. A distraction from the women down the hall, from the goodbyes they’d said at Shiratorizawa, from the university classes only a few months away. 

A distraction from the future that had left Satori feeling at loose ends ever since that final day in the Sendai City Gymnasium.

* * *

In the morning, Satori surprised himself by going running with Wakatoshi. He’d gotten lazy since practices ended but it seemed like an okay idea. Wakatoshi even promised to go slowly enough for Satori to keep up with him. 

The morning was cool and they kept a leisurely pace beside each other, Satori chatting while Wakatoshi listened. Or pretended to. It had never really mattered to either of them. The company was more important than the conversation. 

Satori even convinced Wakatoshi to stop at a bakery before they looped back towards the house. After all,  _ someone _ had to stay on top of his junk food education. And Wakatoshi had admitted as they smuggled fruit pastries into his room that it was a nice indulgence every so often. There was also, he said with a glance towards his closed door, a certain thrill to it.

“Aren’t you afraid I’m a bad influence?” Satori asked, licking raspberry jam off of his fingers.

“I have come to count on it, actually,” Wakatoshi said with a wry half-smile

Satori grinned. “Oh, really? In that case, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

“Whatever you wanted to do, as long as we’re on time for dinner.”

“You make it sound so formal,” Satori wrinkled his nose.

“It is,” Wakatoshi said. He didn’t make jokes, so Satori didn’t even bother to ask if he was serious. Not even when Wakatoshi added, “I hope you brought something to wear.”

To be fair, Satori thought that Wakatoshi should have warned him about dressing for dinner. He’d figured that they’d be on their own for meals and that he wouldn’t need to wear anything fancier than jeans and maybe a nice sweater. He didn’t even have his school uniform with him—he’d shoved that to the back of his closet and promptly forgotten about it almost as soon as he’d arrived home after graduation. 

The charge to his parent’s credit card was going to be a surprise, but Satori wasn’t worried about it. His mother would find it funny, even if Mayumi-san didn’t, and he was pretty sure that Granny Dearest would be politely furious. Wakatoshi tried not to laugh when he saw what Satori bought at the shop that afternoon. Even for him, it seemed a difficult task.

“It’s very… you.”

“That’s what Eita said. I sent him a picture in the fitting room,” Satori grinned. He fell serious for a moment, holding the wrapped package to his chest as they walked through the shopping district. “You know… if you want, I can take it back and get something boring.”

“Why would I ask you to do that?” Wakatoshi asked.

“If it’s going to embarrass you, or get you in trouble with your family—”

“It wouldn’t be you if you wore something else,” he said, firmly but not unkindly. He finally did smile, wide enough to flash a dimple in his cheek that Satori often forgot existed. “I think my father will wish he could have joined us tonight.”

“Funny,” Satori smirked, “Eita said that too.”

* * *

Satori’s fingers itched for his phone. The look on Grandmother’s face was better than he’d expected, deserving at least a dozen photographs to laugh about later. He caught Mayumi-san hiding a smile behind her hand that made him think better of her.

She recovered first, schooling her features into something bland and ushering her son and his friend into the dining area. “What a bold, modern print, Tendou-kun. You must be very fond of flamingos.”

Satori wasn't, but he couldn't argue the matter. Not when his brand new kimono was covered in them. It was as garish and as loud as the birds themselves. 

“I like colorful things,” he agreed. “I bought it specifically for dinner tonight.”

Satori said this with the kind of backhanded politeness he’d learned watching his father play politics. It was the same tone Grandmother Ushijima used when she tittered at him, “You shouldn’t have inconvenienced yourself. Wacchan could have loaned you something appropriate.”

Translation: something not covered in pink birds, brighter pink feathers, and yellow flowers. 

“He offered, but Wakatoshi-kun’s shoulders are  _ so _ much wider than mine,” Satori smiled sweetly. He was slouching, making himself look even smaller next to Wakatoshi. His own grandmother would have slapped him for such a blatant lie, but Granny Dearest simply gave him a look that resembled the backside of a cat.

“Yes, well, why don't we sit down?” Mother suggested before the tension could rise further. “Dinner will be served in a moment.”

No one argued and Satori took his place beside Wakatoshi at the low table. It was, like everything else in the house, an antique. Unlike everything else, it appeared to have seen use. Satori ran his fingers over the dark wood, wondering if past generations had gathered with warmth and love for their meals. 

During dinner—which was served by a uniformed maid—Satori was prepared for most of Grandmother’s thinly veiled insults. He’d heard variations of them his entire life and he’d faced crueler words from eight year olds. When his sly ripostes only encouraged her, he began to ignore her with his blandest expression.

Satori hadn't expected that when she failed to gain a reaction, the old cow would turn her barbs towards Wakatoshi.

“It’s such a shame that you didn't go to Nationals again, Wacchan,” Grandmother lamented. “Perhaps if you were able to hit the ball  _ normally... _ ”

Satori felt more than he saw Wakatoshi tense up beside him. They both knew what she meant. They all did. More than half of the team probably would have strangled the woman for such a comment. Only Eita and Reon would understand why Satori said what he did.

“If Wakatoshi-kun was right-handed, our coach never would have put him on the team. Good thing no one was ever allowed to break him of it as a kid.” Satori met Grandmother’s eyes; she was making that puckered face again. 

“At least Wakatoshi’s...  _ affliction _ could have been corrected,” Grandmother said, her words measured and pointed. “Wrong-handedness is so much easier to fix than bad blood.”

“Mother!” Mayumi-san protested. She looked truly offended, but on whose behalf, Satori wasn't sure. 

Wakatoshi’s face was red, his fists clenched upon his thighs. Satori laid a hand on his shoulder. It might have been more calming if he wasn't shaking with anger too. He stood up and gave an overly polite bow. 

“Excuse me. I'm afraid dinner isn’t agreeing with me.”

Satori was careful to walk away with his head held high and his back straight. He opened and closed the sliding door. Only when he was in the hallway did Satori allow himself to slump in exhaustion. He wasn't sure if he was angry for himself or Wakatoshi. Maybe both.

From behind the closed door, Satori overheard Wakatoshi made the same excuse. He appeared into the hallway like a stone-faced golem. He gestured for Satori to follow him.

“I'm sorry,” Wakatoshi said. “She shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“I don't care what she says about me,” he said. It was a lie, but Wakatoshi didn’t call him out. “She doesn't get to insult my friends.”

Wakatoshi almost smiled. “Thank you.”

“She doesn't know that you can spike with your right, does she?” Satori asked as Wakatoshi opened the door into the garden.

“Grandmother can't even be bothered to remember what position I play,” he answered. There was that bitter finality to his words again. Satori didn't push.

“It’s a nice night out,” he said instead.

It was the truth. The gardens were in full bloom and the air filled with the promise of summer. Their particular section of verandah overlooked the koi pond, where the moon reflected off of the fish bobbing for silvery bugs. It was the kind of night that made Satori long for a paintbrush and his sketchbook. Maybe he could borrow something from Wakatoshi.

Satori crouched down to get a closer look at the fish, smiling at their antics. They were used to people feeding them and gathered to nibble at his fingertips.

Wakatoshi knelt beside him. His movements seemed a lot more graceful in his muted green kimono. He suited the traditional look better than Satori ever would. 

Even if he had looked as good as Wakatoshi, Satori would still uncomfortable. He hadn’t worn a kimono since he was a kid and the silk felt unfamiliar against his skin. He was more used to volleyball gear and the starchy collar of his school uniform. He felt at home in them. Unlike…

He sighed.

“D’you ever feel out of place?” Satori asked, sitting back on his heels. He fidgeted with his sleeves.

“Sometimes,” Wakatoshi admitted. He didn't sound like himself, his voice gone soft. He was always quiet, but this was somehow... different.

“Me too. But a lot.” Satori traced his fingers over one of the flamingos dancing along his arm. “Like one of these out in the middle of a flock of cranes. In wintertime.”

“Swans.”

“What?”

“Shiratorizawa means swans,” Wakatoshi said. There was a tiny quirk to his mouth. The elusive super-ace smile.

“I thought we were supposed to be white eagles,” Satori frowned.

“That’s just me,” he said, the smile in full-force. “The rest of you are swans.”

“I feel like my whole life has been a lie.” Satori was being dramatic on purpose now. He wanted to see if he could make Wakatoshi laugh. “Wait, does that make me the ugly duckling?”

“You can still be a flamingo, Satori.”

There was a quiet, comfortable pause between them. Wakatoshi was still faintly smiling when he spoke again.

“It’s okay to stand out,” he said. “Grandmother has never understood that. She has always been more like a hammer, with everyone else as the nails.”

“I think you mean a sledgehammer.”

“Only when someone stands up to her, like you,” Wakatoshi said. “Or my father. He’s always said that our differences make us stronger.”

“Pretty sure I never met anybody who valued my differences until I joined our team,” Satori shrugged. “Playing with you guys… it was the only time I ever felt like I belonged. I know Tanji-kun only built a team that could support you, but I still mattered. And… you guys became my friends.”

“Team is family,” Wakatoshi said, leaving no room for argument.

“Or a strange flock of birds,” he smiled wryly. “Hey, we oughta see if anybody is free for dinner tomorrow night! I think Reon is here for another two weeks before he leaves for Nagoya. And we could probably kidnap Kenjirou and Taichi for the night.”

“Dinner… here?”

“Oh, fuck, no!” he laughed. “As much as I’d love to see Kenjirou take on your grandmother, I was thinking we could go out.”

“I think that sounds like a much better evening,” Wakatoshi agreed. His eyes danced with amusement. “Although you should wear this again. I imagine Shirabu will make the same face Grandmother did.”

“I hope she thinks of me every time she sees a flamingo,” Satori said fondly. A beat passed, something impish flickering through his garnet eyes. He snorted back laughter. It was his dangerous, far-too-pleased-with-himself laugh.

“What?” Wakatoshi asked. He sounded appropriately suspicious. 

“Have you ever seen those plastic flamingos that Americans sometimes put in their gardens?” Satori asked with a wicked look in his eyes. “Because I think a flock of them would look  _ great _ out here.”

—END—


End file.
